In May 2024, I rode from Prague to Copenhagen via Berlin. This was the fourth stage of a multi-year trip from the southernmost town in Europe: Ierapetra in Crete – to the northernmost – Nordkapp in Norway. For ease of reading, I have broken this trip down into two parts. You can read about my trip from Prague to Berlin here.
At the end of my account, I have put a few notes on the routes that I used. I am happy to provide further details or send you the GPX files.
Embarrassingly after two years, I still haven’t finished uploading my videos of the trip, so will steadily be adding them. Watch this space.
Tuesday 14th May and Wednesday 15th May: Berlin
Sometimes on a bike tour, you can get into a mental rut, worn down by events. At such times, you have to find a moment to press the mental ‘Reset’ button, putting everything behind you and making a new start.
I had started my tour with pains in the knee, which had now graduated to pains in my legs and ankles and even in my shoulders. I was on the verge of giving up when I entered Berlin, but a local doctor had assured me that it was just a small bit of tendinopathy and that I could continue if I took it gently.
So with the doctor’s verdict, I decided to enjoy the rest of my trip, whatever pains I had. And Berlin was a fine place to do it. I had been there twice before, but each time shuttled around by guides without any real sense of the geography of the place. Now, I had given myself two long days with only two social engagements to keep to tether me to any sense of a timetable.
Mindful of not making my ankle any worse, off I set, combining U-bahn and legs. And what a city! Is there any other place on Earth where you feel modern history so intensely? Wherever I went, I could feel the layers of history: Prussia, the German Empire, the Weimar Republic, Nazism, the Second World War, the Cold War and then the reunification, even down to the pedestrian traffic lights: the standard European green fellow in the former West, the delightful hatted ‘Ampelmann’ in the East.
To give just one example: at the centre of the Tiergarten is the Victory Column: erected to celebrate the victory in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71, moved in the 1930s, with Albert Speer – later to be Hitler’s armaments minister designing the underground entrances, then part of the French Occupied Zone with the French removing some of the reliefs and arguing for its destruction, and then returning them in the 1980s as part of the Mitterrand-Kohl partnership.
I took in as many sights as possible. Sadly the Bundestag was cordoned off with building works, but I had time to revisit the striking and solemn Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, and time to visit the Tränenpalast – Palace of Tears – a point where in the thick of the Cold War, East and West Germans could meet briefly, and the ‘Typology of Terrorism’ museum, showing the layout of Nazi-era offices. I was right in the thick of it.
But I also had time for happier pursuits: lunch with Anke, a friend and colleague working for the Enterprise Europe Network, a beer with one of my team who was in town for a meeting, and that most essential Berlin experience: a Currywurst with a cool beer… And very nice it was too, soft and juicy on the inside and with that smattering of curry powder giving it a lovely kick.
Thursday 16th May: Berlin – Zehdenick: 76 km
With spirits reset, but legs still not quite reset, it was time to head back on the trail.
Berlin was certainly bike-friendly, and I never felt worried cycling through it, but boy, did it take an eternity to escape its clutches, albeit mostly on dedicated bike paths. The suburbs seemed to last forever and merged seamlessly into Oranienburg, a full 40 kilometres, before finally breaking out into greenery and occasional glimpses of the Oder-Havel Canal. It was a day of long, flat riding, the sun coming and going and the wind likewise. Gentle riding, if a little tedious. A brief stretch of heath and then the monstrously ugly Liebenwald, then back on the canal for the last 10 kilometres.
The two days off the bike had done my legs some good, and as they warmed up, the pains went away, though there was a disturbing twinge developing in my left shoulder…
My overnight stop was Zehdenick, an agreeably plain town, dusty and peaceful in the evening sun and full of good atmosphere.
My hotel appeared closed and empty but soon the owner rocked up, tanned, tattooed nearly everywhere and dirty T-shirt and shorts. But he was an agreeable fellow, telling me that he had taken over the hotel four months ago and was quietly doing it all up. He was struggling to recruit staff. He apologised for the basic and dated furnishings. It was fine, it was quiet, and it was the only place for miles around, so I had no choice…
Friday 17th May: Zehdenick – Fürstenberg/Havel: 43 km
The upside to my lengthy ride was that I now had a much shorter ride to Fürstenberg. Again, it was as flat as a pancake, and again it was a mixture of ploughed fields and forests of pine, maple, beech and oak, mostly away from the traffic. The wind was down so it was all very agreeable without being spectacular. My only vexation was that it was also teeming with mosquitoes, so any stop had to be a brief one.
In amongst this pleasantness, on the edges of Fürstenberg? Ravensbrück concentration camp for women… History is everywhere in Germany.
But Fürstenberg was pleasant enough. I treated myself to a late lunch of a Bismarck herring sandwich by the lake, followed by an excellent grilled fish with potatoes and cucumber, accompanied by a solid German white wine eaten al fresco while I watched the sun go down. Sometimes the simplest meals are the best ones.
Saturday 18th May: Fürstenberg – Waren: 82 km
After six days of sun: overcast skies and the threat of rain. My legs were just about holding up but my shoulder pain was getting worse.
The ride was a long one, but not a bad one, constantly changing scenery and plenty of dedicated bike paths. There was one nasty stretch of main road to contend to and plenty of towns with cobbles enough to shake my elbows and shoulders, and a few roads where the only properly concreted part was along the sides, leaving little room for error or looking around.
And hills… After the flatness of the ride north of Berlin, here it was a regular up and down. As I got closer to Waren, edging around the Muritz national park, a rather nice section of heath. Plenty of other riders, including a grandfather taking the kids out for a ride to the nearby town of Neustrelitz.
Sunday 19th May: Waren
I make a point of taking a day off every three to four days to give my legs a rest, sleep a bit, wash my clothes and take time to see a place. For most of this trip, I had been able to stop in super-interesting towns where I could easily have added a further day.
But for the ride between Berlin and the coast, the only town that promised to be of any note was Waren, a holiday resort on the Muritz lakes. The town was pretty enough, and I had some nice take out breakfasts at the marina. But it was completely overtouristed, full of overpriced restaurants serving undercooked food. And it worst of all, it was also an ‘all you can drink’ holiday bar for mosquitoes…
So I took a quiet day, with the rain front finally pushing through.
Monday 20th May: Waren – Güstrow: 70 km
A rather tedious day of riding away from that rather tedious town. Nominally, I was passing along the lakes but there were few sights, and after a while the ride settled back into what was becoming a usual routine of forests, fields and heaths. Mostly it was along dedicated bike track away from major traffic, but in the towns, I started to notice that Mecklenburg-Vorpommern had a much lower standard of road maintenance than Brandenburg with loose and uneven cobbles.
Luckily there were some pleasant towns along the way. I stopped in Krakow-am-See for a nice lunch and passed a few quiet hamlets here and there.
I had a nice if slightly airless spot to stay on the edges of Güstrow. The town was pretty but rather empty on a Monday night and I soon started to despair of finding somewhere to eat, settling for a rather lacklustre Greek restaurant, where the chef did at least know how to grill a decent lamb chop.
Even in this quiet town though, history lurked. Wandering around, I came across some plaques with photos showing the destruction of the local synagogue in November 1938, a memorial to victims of Stalinism, a memorial to Prussian unification, and a picture showing riots in October 1989.
Tuesday 21st May: Güstrow – Rostock: 54 km
I had high hopes that arriving at the Baltic Sea coast might break the monotony of the landscape.
The opening kilometres were pretty enough: a quiet path along a river. Then a rather nice stretch passing up close to wind turbines, able to appreciate their power and sophistication. But the second half of the ride became a bit of a trudge, though at least on well-paved roads and the odd bit of dedicated bike path before the inevitable bustle of entering a large town.
Arriving at the Baltic Sea, I quietly marvelled at the fact that my little old creaking body had crossed an entire landmass, albeit in stages over a few years, since I had quit the Mediterranean at Rijeka in Croatia: every kilometre, every pedal stroke counting.
Rostock was pretty enough, and I could feel myself in Hanseatic League territory for the first time: gabled brick houses signifying wealth. Sadly the town seemed to turn its back on the sea, with only the port area accessible.
And like everywhere else, it was in election mood. I was particularly struck that one of the Social Democratic Party candidates for the European Parliament had posters of himself both in his day to day guise and also in his drag queen persona ‘Fatty Acid’. Quite marvellous, and a nice change from the rancid posters of the far right and the far left.
Wednesday 22nd May: Rostock – Wismar: 75 km
Off out early with another threat of a storm. The official Berlin – Copenhagen route takes the soft option of a ferry to Denmark at this point, but I felt that a) this was cheating, and b) I wanted to see a bit more of Hanseatic Germany, so cut west towards Schleswig-Holstein.
I was often on a cycle lane on the main road, which at least made for faster progress, though a bit of up and down, but sometimes on narrow and cracked bike path, and knowing that this was not the country to cheerfully ignore the rules. At last, a turn off to the pretty town of Bad Doberan, but again along the side of a busy road. Not too busy but not greatly pleasant either.
Finally the sea at Heiligendamm and along a quieter bike route with fleeting glimpses of the sea to my right. I stopped at the rather dispiriting town of Kühlingsborn. In grey skies and slightly chilly temperatures, families were desperately trying to have a good time. And to be ordentlich about it… ‘You will have fun. Now.’ It wasn’t helped by a spectacularly out of tune violinist.
Then it was back inland for quite a bit, with the sun poking out but the wind stiffening, but as I closed in on Wismar, cutting back to the sea again, the views getting more and more agreeable.
Wismar is a jolly little place with a happy marketplace, another former Hanseatic town.
But again, there were echoes of the past and tensions. I saw one sign proclaiming that in 1960 the GDR had rebuilt the Archdiakonat after its destruction by the Allies in 1945, and another, much newer, giving thanks to the British and Canadian liberators of the city. The waves of history.
Thursday 23rd May: Wismar – Lübeck: 83 km
I had been very lucky with the rain so far, with the exception of that soaking on the final kilometres to Dresden, but I woke up to heavy rain, and at a certain point, simply had to go for it.
By the time I set out, the rain was merely ‘persistent’. It gradually cleared but there was on/off rain all day and it was rather muggy. Around Boltenhagen, there was a rather section with views of cliffs, but mostly it was a steady rise and fall on quiet roads and paths.
An absolutely awful section of official Eurovelo 7 ‘bike path’ around the town of Petersburg: narrow and muddy and at times overgrown. At one point, I even had to lift everything off my bike and haul it all over a fallen tree trunk. And the towns were little better: the cobbles getting worse and worse. I pined for the ‘crossing’ into West Germany. In some cases, there were even signs: “Radweg-schäden” or in other words, we couldn’t be bothered to fix it, so we stuck up signs instead…
I had expected some kind of sign when passing from the old East to the old West: I was after all passing through an area that had been one of the most fortified areas of Europe, a land of control towers and barbed wire. But there was almost nothing: only a sign welcoming me to the Hanseatic town of Lübeck. In some ways, this was wonderful: life moving on, Germany reuniting. But I was sad that there was no commemoration.
Friday 24th May: Lübeck
So now I was in the ‘West’ and in the former capital of the Hanseatic League. I was determined to find out more so I headed to the European Hansamuseum, a large and interactive museum at the spot where the Trave river joins up again after splitting round the island.
The museum was fascinating and I had a sense of the rise and fall of the league: initially a defensive alliance for traders heading to Novgorod, then an all conquering cartel, able to hold other merchant cities such as London and Bruges to ransom, and then finally declining after being humbled by Bergen in Norway.
All this cut-throat mercantilism left me hungry though, so I headed back into the centre of town, and ordered a quite enormous Bratwurst with roast potatoes before heading to my second must-see for Lübeck: the Niederegger marzipan shop and mini-museum: a wondrous palace to marzipan of all shapes and tastes.
Lübeck itself was cheery enough: more gabled red brick houses and the feeling of the sea.
Saturday 25th May: Lübeck: Grossenbrode: 79km
North and with excitement that I was on my way to Denmark.
But that excitement was quickly dulled by the day: dreary weather: overcast, spotting with rain here and there, and finally soaking me in the final hour. And dreary landscapes: riding out of Lübeck, a long smear of suburbia followed by prim little villages with squirts of fields between them. An equally dreary up and down. It was mostly inland and mostly farmland and even the occasional sight of the coast was brief and glum.
Sometimes when planning bike routes, weekends, particularly during holiday season, can determine your route as unless you book super-early, you can find the towns where you want to stay booked up or only offering rooms at exorbitant prices. So it was with Schleswig-Holstein: I was forced to ride to the quiet town of Grossenbrode and pay almost the highest price of my entire trip. The room was pleasant enough: it had to be, but the town and local beach were as dull as ditchwater.
Sunday 26th May: Grossenbrode: Nykøbing: 69km
I knew that to get to Denmark, I would have to take the ferry from Puttgarden to Rødbyhavn, with one departing every forty minutes, so set off early aiming for the 11.15.
Five kilometres in, as I was coming towards the bridge to the island of Fehmarn, I came across an ominous sign saying that the bridge was closed to bikes and pedestrians and that I would need to take a free bike and hiker bus service.
I figured that I would work my way around that and then came across a barrier blocking access, which rather settled it, so turned around and rode back to Grossenbrode to catch the bus, which I saw leaving five minutes earlier than planned just as I turned towards the bus stop. When I got back to my hotel, the manager said “Oh yes, I should have warned you about that”. So I had to wait another hour at the bus stop and it was a good job that I was there early because the bike rack filled up very quickly. I was at least consoled that I was not the only one in this jam: on the bus everyone was bellyaching about it…
A ten-minute ride and then everyone spilling out, trying to get their bearings. Looking at my watch, the route and the ferry timetable, I figured that if I took a direct route along the main roads and got going, I might have a chance of making the 12.00. So off I bolted, and duly averaged a very respectable 19.3kph, at times going even faster. It was a shame because Fehmarn and its few towns seemed very pretty.
I made it with about five or ten minutes to spare, and enjoyed a happy hour with seagulls wheeling overhead, and then out into Denmark: no passport control, no nothing.
I still had 56km to do and the skies started to darken. So I didn’t hang around the scenery was not very stimulating either: a succession of tracking alongside and occasionally on quiet main roads, alternating with muddy bike paths screened from the landscape by tall hedges and only enlivened by the odd painted bird box. The only minor highlight was the yellow-plastered castle of Krenkerup.
Crossing towards Nykøbing with water on both sides, the town looked rather enticing and pretty. But once off the bike and searching for dinner, I discovered that it was a place best seen from a distance and kept that way. Admittedly it was a Sunday evening, but it looked beaten up, half the shops for sale. Luckily, I found an Indian restaurant that was open – I was the only customer, but they were very kind so I treated myself to a decent chapli kebab and a sublime chicken tikka. Welcome to Denmark.
Monday 27th May: Nykøbing – Stege: 62 km
Even on a Monday morning, an excursion in search of breakfast revealed Nykøbing to be dead, so with one thunderstorm having passed through and the threat of another, I got going, also aware of the need to catch the passenger/bike ferry from Stubbekoping to Bogø.
The skies might have been grey and spotting with rain, but the scenery became anything but: after 15km, I hit the water’s edge: a farm track parallel to the sea and quite magnificent: red cliffs rising in the distance, the noise of the waves, coast alternating with snatches of rain-soaked forest before a hill over towards Stubbekobing, opting to take a more direct route to be sure that I made the ferry.
Together with a bunch of e-bikers, we crossed on a historic wooden ferry then followed the well signposted bike route through Bogø, the sun finally coming out, and a delightful thread of road connecting islands, water on both sides. It was lovely riding: gentle up and down along peaceful roads or well-maintained bike paths, and often through pretty hamlets and villages, fine views over to the sea, mostly in the distance. The scenery changed regularly and whilst it was windy, it was never in my face.
Tuesday 28th May: Stege
My Danish friends had advised me to stay in Stege, a pretty yellow-bricked down, though one that I suspected would get rather clogged in summer: tasteless art galleries and knickknack shops. Out of season, it was fine, though everything including the restaurants closed early.
I was determined to see the cliffs at Møns Klimt but getting there by public transport proved a headache: I had to take another once-an-hour bus from Stege to the nearest village of Klintholm Havn, then tramp for an hour and down a long and steep set of steps – over 500, and the same on the way back.
But it was absolutely worth it: Møns Klimt is a natural wonder, an unearthly rockscape: white clay, turquoise sea with huge cliffs looming like blocks of butter. The Geo Centre back up the steps did not add much to my experience and I had another long and fraught march along the main road to the nearest bus stop.
Wednesday 29th May: Stege – Højerup: 76 km
Nearly there but another blustery and rather overcast day. After my walking the previous days, my calves were super-tight. The hills were not big ones, and overall it was a relatively flat day, but they were steep and regular, and my legs complained at all the up and down. Without the lustre of the sun, and with only the occasional field of poppies or rapeseed and equally occasional views of the sea, it was another day for simply plugging away. The rain was on and off but the wind was always present. When I was within sight of the coast, it was often along a rather busy and cramped main road. All rather tiresome.
Over the 76km, I managed a rather healthy 17kph but my legs rather complained on the final stretch past Rødby and I was happy to call it a day. You have days like that…
Again my accommodation options were limited, so I rolled into the hamlet of Højerup. My accommodation was a one-storey converted farmhouse split into small sets of rooms. No restaurants or eating options nearby but a shared kitchen and shared bathroom. There were quite a few others present, mostly bikers and hikers. The only distraction was an old chapel and a small set of cliffs: much less impressive than Møns Klimt but still rather pretty. It was time to close it all out.
Thursday 30th May: Højerup – Copenhagen: 69 km
I took my own sweet time getting up, and by the time I set out just before ten, the bike storage area was deserted.
But at least the sun started to come out and for a while, I had a stretch of pretty villages with thatched roofs and coloured plaster to amuse me, but between Strøby and Køge, everything got ugly again.
I passed through the edges of Køge, including its port and was half-tempted by the sight of a ferry to Klaipeda in Lithuania, but on I went, the sun hotter and hotter, and the patches of green fewer and fewer. As I closed in on Copenhagen, it was just one ribbon of sprawl. As ever, the bike paths were nicely maintained and signposted but they could not hide the plainness of the riding.
Then suddenly, I was in the big city. Bikes everywhere and at speed. For all my aching knees, aching heels, aching calves and aching shoulders, somehow I had ridden 1,381 km and on my final day, managed another very creditable speed of 19km, helped by the flatness of it all. I rewarded myself by finally getting a taste of decent Danish food: marinated herrings with what seemed to be bacon fat and pieces. Indulgent and delicious and followed by a very creditable veal liver.
I spent Friday morning picking up a bike box from a not very helpful shop across town. Despite having agreed it with them in advance, all they had was an extra large box, which I had to weave across town with, like an out of control windsurfer, much to the bemusement of other pedestrians before cutting down to size in a relatively empty part of the hotel, finally helped by the hotel janitor, who lent me a cutting blade and went off and found some used egg boxes to help cushion the rest of the bike.
I had been to Copenhagen a few times in the past, so concentrated on errands such as filling the remaining space in my bags with the wonders of Danish liquorice and catching up with old friends out of town. It was a pleasant way to end what had not been an easy trip.
For all that, I was glad that I had done it. After the first few days along the Vltava and Elbe, the riding was not spectacular, but it did add to my understanding of Europe, seeing how the hills of the Czech Republic give way to the Baltic, and above all, those intensely historic towns. The Hanseatic League, the Reformation, the emergence of Prussia and the unification of Germany, the Weimar Republic, the Nazi regime, the Holocaust, the GDR and Cold War, the reunification of Germany….
And now what? As I rode through all three countries, I could detect an anger at the status quo, a sizzling resentment and sense of injustice. From the racist bike mechanic in Prague, to the tensions in Dresden to the AfD posters across small towns, and the simplistic appeals of the far left Bündnis Sahra Wagenknecht, and then in Denmark, a simple poster of a straw, which turned out to be a Eurosceptic politician campaigning against interference from ‘Brussels’. Bike touring can really help you get close not just to a landscape but to the people and the currents moving them.
Route Notes
On the edges of Berlin, I resumed the Eurovelo 7 and largely tracked that to Rostock, occasionally taking a short cut. This is also the Berlin-Copenhagen route.
At Rostock, I cut to the coast at Heiligendamm and picked up the Eurovelo 10/13. I rode this to near Warnkenhagen, not far after Boltenhagen, and then cut inland to Lübeck via Dassow and Schönberg. From Lübeck, I headed north, rejoining the Eurovelo 10 at Scharbeutz on the coast. I followed it to Neustadt (Holstein) and then road direct to Oldenburg before heading towards Grossenbrode, rejoining the Eurovelo 10 towards the end. From the bus drop off at Avendorf, I made a beeline to Puttgarden.
From Rødbyhavn, I rode to Maribo and then on to Nykøbing. If you look on Open Street Map Cycling, you will see the broad route. From Nykøbing, I rode towards Tunderup, picking up the Eurovelo 7 again at the coast and more or less following it all the way to Stege and then on to Højerup and Copenhagen, though when it deviated away from the coast at Køge, I took a straight line up the coast until the path rejoined the coast.
I am happy to send GPX files.